All-Around TYPE-MOON: Fanfiction Festival!
by troydenite
Summary: In a cafe with a name that no-one can pronounce, Masters and Servants gather... to have wacky hijinks. Inspired by Carnival Phantasm and All-Around TYPE-MOON, behold the destruction of all the serious you hold dear! No darkness! Iffy continuity! Dubious shipping! Guest-starring Tsukihime and Kara no Kyoukai (not really!) Let the Festival begin!
1. How Not to Start a Story

_Say there was a little cafe._

_Say that cafe had a completely unpronounceable name that defied all the laws of grammar, linguistics, decency, morality, and quite possibly the Geneva Conventions._

_Say that cafe was manned by a handful of deformed cat-things, a certain blue-haired Irishman with the worst luck in the world and a certain pink-haired Irishwoman with all the luck that comes with being a minor character resurrected in an oddball sequel._

_As it turns out, of course, that cafe exists. Its name is Ahnenerbe. Remember that now. I know you can't, but it's worth a try before you end up having to Google it every time you want to Google it. Sucker._

_Anyway. Where was I? Ah, yes. Ahem. And in Ahnenerbe, a certain Festival is about to start..._

_I would say more, but I'm just the voice who's here for the opening sequence so the author can try to be funny. You won't be hearing me again. Which is sad, given that it's me and I'm awesome, but at any rate, what I meant to say was, I mean, you know I really deserve more screentime and what do you mean IT'S STARTI_

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><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: FANFICTION FESTIVAL!<strong>

**Chapter One: How Not to Start a Story**

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><p><em>Kimi to issho ga ichiban suki yotte motto gyutto ne-<em>

"Nya!"

An annoyed paw smashed down, stopping the music with more vehemence than was actually necessary. Warbling, _Super Affection_ bounced off the counter, hit the ground, and lay defeated in a smoking heap.

No, that was the radio. But it was close enough.

"Thank Neco-God. It was bad enough the last time they did it, nya. Jumping up and down like that... where did they expect me to keep my dignyaty? You deserved that, nya."

With that sage conclusion, the short cat-thing stepped away from the grisly electronic remains, dusting its paws off with a dishcloth and looking very pleased with itself. Neco-Arc's golden hair and cat apron waved slightly as it nodded, and its obviously exaggerated chibi eyes and obviously exaggerated chibi mouth beamed in the supposed 'cat smile' – which was actually just a sideways '3'. But that was the point of chibi mascot characters.

Ahnenerbe was as quiet and tongue-tying as ever. It was a cosy cafe, if you could look past the fact that it was run by a bunch of cats who all looked like caricatures of more popular characters. The tables were filled with beings of all sorts. Some were notable. Others were simply there to add flavor.

In another corner of the cafe, slightly to the left of a gaping salaryman and slightly to the right of a certain blue-haired Irish waiter, a darker chibi-cat-thing with rugged hair removed his cigarette from his mouth, puffed out some smoke and tossed the stub aside, promptly setting the waiter on fire. His terrified screams were ignored by everyone in the cafe.

The dark chibi-cat-thing prodded the heap of radio with his foot.

"Such a waste, Neco-Arc, " said Neco-Chaos. His voice was ridiculously deep.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"To destroy a good radio just like that. Mastering your most destructive impulses is the sign of a true man." He said it with deep conviction and a sage nod.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Smashing through the window, the blue-haired (and Irish) fireball rolled out onto the pavement. He was then hit by a passing lorry.

Neco-Arc scratched its head.

"I'm not even sure we have genders, nya."

"Ah, but that is the mystery."

Another puff of smoke, then a side glance at the shattered window.

"We're going to have to repair that," noted Neco-Chaos.

Outside, it was morning. Or night. Or day. Whatever. The metaphorically infinite fields of the Nasuverse were there for the taking...

So why weren't they earning more?

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><p>It was just another day for a certain Defender of Justice. In this case, it was buying the ingredients for lunch, which was surprisingly important when you had to pacify a Tiger. And a King.<p>

The redhaired teen walked along the road, dressed in his usual white-blue raglan shirt and jeans. He seemed to be completely focused on the idea.

"Twelve o' clock, " he muttered, glancing at his watch with a frown. "If I get cabbage, eggs, and bacon, I can make _okonomiyaki_. Maybe with a bit of salmon, for variety. Seafood would be nice."

He passed by the new cafe. There was an ambulance and a smoking body in the middle of the road, which seemed completely forlorn in its deadness. The paramedics seemed to be debating whether they should actually bother with this one. Naturally, Shirou didn't notice. He was too busy weighings the pros and cons of seafood.

Pros: he wouldn't need any imagination. Cons….

'_But Shirou, we had this last month!'_ A hyperactive schoolteacher's whining voice rang out in his head.

'_Shirou. This is most unbecoming of your standards. I expected more from you.'_ Saber, shaking her kingly head in disapproval.

'_Oh, senpai! Looks like I win this time… and you know what that means, don't you?' _Sakura, clasping her chopsticks, leaning in with gleaming eyes.

'_Dishes_ _**foreeeveeeeeeeer~'**_

Shirou balked.

"Ah, dammit." The youth rubbed his temples in a fit of frustration. "What do I do? I knew I shouldn't have made Japanese all of last week."

He stopped and turned, looking at the cafe with the unpronounceable name.

...It was a long shot, but maybe he could get them to eat out for once.

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><p>From his position on the opposite rooftop, the white-haired man in the red T-shirt sighed. With his tanned skin and chiseled features, he looked like a beach model - a very annoyed beach model. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It'd curdle.<p>

"I know I was stupid in the past," he muttered caustically, "but this takes the cake. Ahnenerbe, Emiya Shirou? Do you _want_ your life to be ruined?"

The man stood, then gave a resigned smile.

"Whatever. My lovely Master Rin wants me to stalk you. And if there's one thing I'm good at, Emiya Shirou, it's stalking you. Guess I'd better file the report."

"Halt, Archer."

The curt command was backed by the flick of a nailed chain. Keen eyes flashing, Archer dove under the wicked point. To any human, it would have been too fast to see. Archer, on the other hand, went through three sarcastic quips in mid-roll.

"Library too intense for you, Rider? Or do you really have nothing left to do?"

Smirking, Archer rose to his feet. Through her spectacles, the statuesque, purple-haired woman gave him a stoic look. With a light tug, the chain whipped back to coil in her hand.

"You shall not give your Master the location of Emiya Shirou," she stated. "Sakura has forbidden it."

"Oho. So that's what it is. A little sisters' spat. Does your Master want a date too?"

Archer folded his arms.

"You know, she's welcome to him. It's not like I care who Emiya Shirou ends up with. In fact, whoever Emiya Shirou ends up with can have my most sincere condolences."

Rider remained impassive. Archer raised an eyebrow, then carried on.

"But still, I have this certain compulsion to follow Rin's orders. I can't explain it for the life of me. Maybe it's that Command Spell. Maybe it's my dislike of people who try to make their points with really sharp weapons. Trace On."

His mental forge shot through the seven steps like clockwork. Hands bursting with light, Archer raised Kanshou for throwing, even as he moved Bakuya into a defensive guard -

Rider took off her glasses. Archer froze.

"Now, tell me where Emiya Shirou is," she said, peering at her immobile enemy.

Naturally, Archer said nothing - but his eyes gleamed in amusement. Rider put on her glasses. The white-black crescent blades dematerialised as Archer folded his arms again.

"You mean you don't know?" he smirked. "Don't you live in the same house? And here I was thinking you had good senses. Shoddy, just shoddy."

To his great pleasure, Rider flushed. Then she took off her glasses. Archer froze in mid-breath.

"It's all these people," she muttered, looking petulant. "The beer, too. Now, tell me where Emiya Shirou is."

She put on her glasses.

"Not telling," said Archer, exulting in triumph.

Rider's face burned even brighter. Whether it was embarrassment or vexation was up in the air.

"W-we can do this all day," she huffed, trying to sound threatening.

"Be my guest."

He made sure to look as smug as possible when she took them off again.

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><p>The twin-tailed girl was beautiful. The twin-tailed girl was smart. The twin-tailed girl wore a very short skirt. No matter where she went, heads turned at the twin-tailed girl. And as she walked down the road to New Town's shopping district, the twin-tailed girl looked her sister straight in the eye.<p>

"So, you're telling me that you have no idea where Emiya is? And that you haven't sent anyone to find him?" asked Tohsaka Rin, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Sakura smiled angelically. Her purple hair swayed lightly in the wind, as if to emphasize her innocence.

"No, Sister dearest. Have you?"

"Humph. Of course not!" Rin folded her arms and raised her chin. The two kept walking.

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><p><em>Okay, so turns out I'm not quite gone after all. The author renewed my contract, if only because putting in an Author's Note might prove just a tad awkward. Good for him, I say - and me, and you, because you get to hear my lovely voice again. <em>

_Call me the Narrator, ladies. I narrate. _

_Anyway, back to business. The author would like you to know that he does not own TYPE-MOON. If he did, he tells me that he would be a lot richer than he actually is, and also Kinoko Nasu. Which he is not. _

_(Also, he said he would make the Fate route a lot shorter, cut out all the eye-searing sex and give Illya her own little world of happiness. All the time. Every time.)_

_The author would also like to draw attention to the excellent manga All-Around TYPE-MOON, the inspiration for this series. It's basically a hilarious fanfic in the form of an official manga. It is every bit as awesome as it sounds. Unfortunately, he tells me that he has limited knowledge of Tsukihime and Kara no Kyoukai, which means that it'll be mostly Fate characters in this fic until he reads/watches up. I believe the official term for that is 'filthy casual.'_

_(What's that? No, I'm being good, I promise. You're getting your money's worth, Mr. Author.) _

_So. What's left? Ah, yes. _

_Updates will be spasmodic and short. No grimderp or seriousness shall be found. No powers shall be respected. Onward for great justice. _


	2. How Not to Be Compensated

_Oh, come on, this is stupid - ah, whatever. The Illustrious Author would like to point out that this preamble has been edited in for no reason other than to get the title to format right._

_No._

_Reason._

_At all._

_There. I hope you're happy with yourself._

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><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: FANFICTION FESTIVAL!<strong>

**Chapter Two: How Not To Be Compensated**

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><p>Completely unaware of the Servant standoff happening just a rooftop away, Shirou worked his way around the glass shards, opened the cafe door and stepped inside. He was met by a strange, homely sight. The premises were far from full, but the few occupied tables seemed jovial enough. Businessmen, workers, more businessmen. Beer and coffee flowed with the food in copious amounts. A pretty Irish waitress in a French maid outfit moved in between, taking orders and -<p>

_Wait, is that Bazett?_

"Welcome, nya!"

The deformed cat-thing in the white sweater and purple skirt greeted him cheerfully. It was wiping off beer mugs at lightning speed, spinning them in its left paw and applying a dishcloth with great twisting thrusts. Its golden hair swished in a flurry of activity, its ears lay flat against its head for convenience, and its red eyes glinted bright in the ambient glow.

Shirou had no words.

"Um…"

He was just about to make some incredibly obvious comment about the broken window ('Man, that window looks really broken!') or ask something very dumb ('Hey, Bazett, what are you doing in that maid dress? Working?') when another deformed cat-thing collided with his leg.

"Bubbles!" shrieked the cat-thing behind the bar. "What did I tell you about walking by the front door, nya?"

"Un!" screamed Bubbles in panic. Sadly, its voice was mostly lost in Shirou's thigh.

"Don't you dare let go, Bubbles!"

"Un un un!" shook Bubbles.

Shirou stared down at the new cat-thing. It was virtually identical to the one at the counter, save for its green skirt and state of utter incoherence. Then he noticed that on its head was a thirty-tray-high stack of trays, and that in between the trays were sandwiched many plates, and that from the plates were peeking the edges of various spit-stained food scraps, and that the entire ungodly structure was sliding slowly and inexorably towards his face.

"Un," lamented Neco-Arc Bubbles, and let go.

For the second left to him, Shirou wondered how the hell he'd managed to miss _that_.

The crash was absolutely spectacular. Drops of liquefied croquette spattered against the countertop. Shards of porcelain embedded themselves in upholstery and pot plants. An entire tray spun at deadly speed towards the pink-haired Irish waitress, who promptly punched it into the floor, then stomped on it until it was sorry.

Also, the entire paying population of Ahnenerbe dove for cover. Some were fatter than others.

Ten seconds later, when Neco-Arc finally mustered the courage to peek out over the counter, the first thing it saw was a forlorn, spread-eagled raglan mess on top of a very compressed Neco-Arc Bubbles, who was emitting sorrowful 'un's' in contemplation of its sins. The second thing it noticed was that the cafe was completely ruined, and that the few customers who hadn't been pelted into a daze were dragging themselves towards the door .

Neco-Arc began to shake.

"Bubbles?"

"Un?"

"You're fired, nya."

"Un."

Squeezing out from under Shirou, Bubbles shuffled sadly towards the door, missed it, and wandered into the kitchen instead.

Neco-Arc shook its head, then began ushering the various customers out. Its apologies were profuse.

"So sorry, nya. Come again, nya. Don't worry about paying, nya. We're innocent, nya. Please don't sue us, nya."

Fortunately, no-one seemed conscious enough to care.

The kitchen doors swung open. Out strode Neco-Chaos, surveying the carnage with calm and solemn eyes. Behind him trailed Bubbles and another Neco (or, as Shirou would put it, cat-thing), this one with pink highlights and a melodramatic, mincing walk.

"Oh!" moaned the pink Neco in mature female tones. "Our labor of love! Our Ahnenerbe! Why has it come to this?"

"Despair not, Destiny," intoned Neco-Chaos. He took a long drag at his cigarette, then exhaled. "For with every end comes a new beginning."

"What about hedonic damages?" asked Neco-Arc Destiny, eyelashes all aflutter at the main casualty.

Neco-Chaos bit his cigarette in half.

"Bazett?" he called, spitting out the stub.

The waitress put down her dustpan and came over.

"Yes, Neco-Chaos sir?" As per usual, her demeanor was firm and professional.

"Have you ever seen our good customer here?" And he pointed to the disheveled, unconscious Shirou.

Bazett blinked.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I live with him."

"Oh, _my._ Is he a judgemental man?"

Bazett shook her head.

"Not at all. He's the least judgemental person I know."

Neco-Chaos mulled this over.

"...Would he be willing to accept alternative compensation for this slight?"

Shirou sprang to his feet like a spring-loaded corpse. There was a shriek from Destiny, an alarmed hiss from Neco-Arc, and an 'un' from Bubbles.

Neco-Chaos gave a toothy, satisfied grin.

"Is that a yes?"

Shirou looked around. Half a meringue was plastered over his left ear, there was a plate down his neck, and his face still had tray marks in it. He rubbed himself off as best he could, then reached under his shirt to produce the plate. The meringue slopped onto his sleeve.

"Well, I think I'd be fine with lunch," he replied in his earnest fashion, handing the plate to Neco-Arc. "If I can have four of my friends here on the house, I'd be more than happy to help you clean up. Hey, Bazett."

"Good afternoon, Shirou," nodded Bazett.

"Oh!" Neco-Arc reeled. "What a nice young man, nya!"

"Un un un!" agreed Bubbles, nodding its head in a flurry of hair.

"Splendid," said Neco-Chaos. "Can you do something for the window, too?"

"Well," Shirou admitted after a pause, "I do have another friend who's good with that kind of thing, but -"

"Make it five friends, then!" exclaimed Destiny. "Oh, I can't wait to see the people you mix with, you cutie, you!"

Shirou's eyes widened. He was about to say more when Bazett slapped a mask over his mouth, Destiny pushed a tablecloth into his hand, Neco-Chaos balanced an ashtray on his foot, and Neco-Arc hooked a feather-duster onto his shoulder. Not wanting to feel left out, Bubbles hit him in the face with a broom.

"Shirou, is it? Thank you so much, nya!"

And with that parting shot from Neco-Arc, the Necos promptly gapped it. Bazett lingered for a few seconds.

"Sorry, Shirou," she said apologetically, "but there's somewhere I have to be. I'll make sure to invite everyone for you when I'm done. Let's see, Taiga, Illya, Saber, Sakura… and that other girl, right? Tohsaka?"

"_Tohsaka? Wait!" _Shirou squeaked. Unfortunately, the mask was ridiculously tight.

"Toe-sucker, mate!" he slurred.

Bazett raised an eyebrow.

"If you say so. See you, Shirou. Good luck with the cleaning."

Shirou fumbled with the ties at the back of his head, failed, shook the hanging objects off him and began frantically waving the broom.

"Mo! Veil arl sink ish a date!"

But the Irishwoman had already walked out, muttering something about concussion.

Shirou looked helplessly at the door. Then, resigned to his fate, he began dragging the broom across the floor.

If he was going to die, he might as well do it in surroundings that looked less like a disaster.

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><p>After much deliberation, the paramedics had carried the charred, slightly squishy body into an ambulance. But the ride had been bumpier than expected, so the patient had accidentally slipped out and taken a long ride down the road, stretcher still attached. The paramedics' only response to this had been an overwhelming sense of apathy.<p>

_Fourth time this week,_ one of them was heard to say. _You gotta stop sometime._ His partner had shrugged.

It was in this fashion that the blue-haired Irish waiter had travelled all the way down to the docks. He had collided with basically everything. The stretcher was more a sine wave than a stretcher. Even the straps looked put-out.

Lancer stirred, then opened his eyes. Above him loomed the pink-wreathed face of Bazett.

"Oh, it's you again?" he wheezed.

A small smile of relief played around Bazett's lips.

"I'm sorry. Couldn't get off work. You know how they are."

"Y'know, I'd love to respond," said Lancer with a labored grin, "but these straps are killing me."

Bazett promptly kicked the stretcher in half. Then she colored pink in horror.

"Sorry!" she cried.

Screaming, Lancer flew up.

"Sorry!"

Screaming, Lancer hit his head on a lamppost.

"Sorry!"

Screaming, Lancer hit the concrete. It was a few seconds before he clambered to his feet. Bazett clasped both hands together, eyes swimming in concern.

"Okay," Lancer admitted, "so those straps did kill me."

"Um, you aren't hurt, are you?" Bazett asked, voice uncharacteristically a-tremble. To her relief, Lancer gave a bark of raucous laughter.

"Me?" he grinned, snapping his arm back into place. "What do you think? Of course I'm hurt. I'm always hurt. The world hates me, that's what. Won't let me die, either."

He cracked his neck three times in one direction, then four times in the other. His expression softened.

"Still, I guess it's worth it just to see you, Bazett. I don't get a kind face every day, and certainly not one as pretty as yours."

And that was when his neck snapped.

"Oh, you!" the Irishwoman squealed, flailing like a delighted schoolgirl. Her fists batted at Lancer's flopping form with lethal strength. "You make me blush! This is why you're my favorite hero! Summoning you was the right choice after all!"

"Bazet-" _*krak*_ "Plea-" _*krak*_ "No-" _*krak*_ "Sto-" _*krak* _

"Don't worry, Lancer!" cried Bazett in glee. "I'll save you from your terrible fate!"

Not for the first or last time, Cú Chulainn inwardly bemoaned the luck of the Irish.

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><p><em>It's me, the Narrator, bringing the suspense! How shall Shirou get out of his predicament? Will the irresponsible Necos be brought to justice? Is Lancer ever going to stop dying? And where the hell is Saber? <em>

_(I expect a raise for all this screaming, Mr. Autho-) _

_All shall be revealed as the Festival continues! Onward for great justice!_


	3. How Not to Relay Invitations

_Well, that took long enough. The Author tells me that he's in the middle of exams and will be for the next two months, but we all know that's just an excuse for him being lazy. Anyway, you'd better enjoy this!_

_...Otherwise, I'd be out of a job, you see._

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><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: FANFICTION FESTIVAL!<strong>

**Chapter Three: How Not to Relay Invitations**

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><p>It was a peaceful afternoon in the Emiya residence. The birds were singing. The sun was shining. But then the sun shone a bit too bright! The birds twittered colorful curses at the sky, before wheeling into the shade! Everything exploded!<p>

At least, that was what Fujimura Taiga wished would happen. At least vulgar birds and ridiculous explosions would be _interesting. _

"So booooooooooored!" moaned the schoolteacher as she stretched out from the television, before falling on her back and pounding her fists on the floor. "Bored, bored, bored!"

"Taiga? Why are you doing that? Do you have any lunch?"

Illyasviel von Einzbern peered over Taiga's head. Framed by her snowy-white hair, the little homunculus' snowy-white face looked heart-rippingly innocent as always, even when upside down. But Taiga had been around Illya too long to be affected by her deceptive charms.

"Don't think you're getting any," groaned Taiga. "I don't have any food. Even if I had the food, I wouldn't give you the food. Shirou was meant to have the food. Sakura's gone too. We have no food. I repeat: we have no food."

The twenty-five-year-old sat up and tore at her hair.

"Aggh!" she screamed. "Where's Shirou? Why is he so useless?"

And here she flopped back down again.

"Meanie!" cried Illya, red eyes flashing. "Big Brother isn't useless!"

Taiga blinked. Then her lips curled into a knowing smirk. Oh, she could just _feel _the boredom slipping away.

"Of course he is," she replied, with the assurance of a very smug teacher. "I mean, have you ever seen him do anything useful lately? All he's been doing is running around. Chasing girls."

Her eyes flicked to Illya, even as she very deliberately said the next words.

"Going on dates."

Flick. Illya's cheeks had puffed up in indignation.

"Escorting them home."

Flick. Illya's fists were bunched and shaking. Taiga's smirk lengthened.

"Doing the dirt- owwwwww! Hey, stop that!"

But Illya had already bitten Taiga on the leg.

"Yew chake dat bwak!" she mumble-yelled, mouth full of Taiga's pants. She wasn't big enough to do any damage, but there was no way Taiga could mock her in peace now.

"We shall never surrender!" yelled Taiga in her best impression of a noble person, before hopping to one foot and shaking Illya around like a ragdoll. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings!"

Illya opened her mouth to retort, then went flying into the far wall. Taiga fell over laughing. Illya stomped over and put Taiga into the best armbar anyone with a prepubescent body would ever manage. Taiga kept laughing.

"Stop laughing!"

Straining with all her might, Illya tried another three submissions. Taiga took a break from her convulsions to snort.

"Seriously, Illya… you're so violent… it's great…"

That seemed to do it. Illya let go, stood up, and stepped back. Her scowl melted. She began to sniff. Taiga blanched.

"Oh boy," she squeaked.

"Saber!" Illya wailed. "Taiga's been _bullying _me!"

A very regal head poked out from behind the kitchen counter.

"Is that so?" asked the golden-haired King of Knights, having ceased her cupboard-rummaging at the tearful cry.

"Yeah!" nodded Illya fiercely, rubbing her eyes. "She's a great big meanie!"

"Says you, you pint-sized Rottweiler!" Taiga exclaimed, before making a great show of pointing at the white-haired girl (who was now pouting for added effect). "It wasn't me, I swear! She's the one who bit me! I only insulted Shirou, I mean told the truth, I mean didn't insult Shirou, I mean, errrr..."

"I see."

Saber considered this, eyes serious. Taiga gave a nervous laugh, which quickly turned into a strangled yelp as Illya kicked her in the shins.

"Oww! You see that? You see that?" Taiga gesticulated. "Right in the act!"

"See what?" asked Saber, assuming a look of complete earnestness. Illya gave a small smirk, then kicked Taiga slightly harder.

"Oww! Are you blind or something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. My eyesight is perfectly fine."

Illya kicked Taiga again, this time with gusto. The schoolteacher was just about to start bawling herself when Saber blinked and snapped to attention.

"Yes, Shirou?" she asked the air. Both homunculus and human stopped and stared. Taiga shifted, then gave an awkward grin.

"I hate to break it to you, Saber, but… there's no-one there."

"Food?" asked Saber, eyes suddenly bursting into shining orbs of pure delight. "Lunch? Free?"

Illya stole a glance at Taiga, who was pinching herself at regular intervals. It was just too bad, she told herself smugly. She couldn't let Taiga in on the secret of Master-Servant telepathy. By general consensus of the Emiya household, Taiga could never know that there were two Servants under her grandfather's rented roof. Or that every non-Servant resident was a Mage. Or anything in general.

"Come on, Saber! Let's go find Big Brother." Grabbing Saber by the arm, Illya slyly pulled the salivating Servant towards the door.

"Food," noted Saber dreamily.

"Hey! Wait!" Taiga cried. "You're not getting lunch without me! Uryaaaaaah!" Springing forwards, she lunged for Illya's arm with the speed of a true kendo master. Her fingers contracted. Her arms shot forward. Her legs moved at godspee-

The door slammed, and then Taiga slammed. Into the door. Her defeated squeak was received with great satisfaction.

"Good work, Saber!" chirped Illya on the garden footpath, having snapped the Servant out of her fake reverie with a light tug on the arm.

Saber smiled.

"The credit is all yours, Illya. I did not expect you to read my intent with such swiftness. Truly, your skill with Servants is second to none. Now that we have defended Shirou's honor..."

The two passed the mailbox. Saber placed one hand on Taiga's yellow Vespa.

"You're taking me to see Big Brother, right?" completed Illya hopefully.

The two looked at each other, bright smiles frozen in place.

"No," said Saber, before vaulting on the Vespa and zooming away in a great cloud of dust. Illya's face twitched, then fell.

"_Heeeey!_" she wailed. "Come back, Saber! No _fair!_ You're a meanie too, you… _super big_ meanie!"

"Ahaha!" laughed Taiga heartily. She was hanging from the doorknob, having shoved it open despite being black and blue all over. "Serves you right, you - wait, did she just steal my Vespa?"

Both members of the Tiger Dojo were still quivering tearfully when Bazett dragged Lancer in.

"Oh, hello. Just the two I wanted to see," said the Irishwoman, business-face on. "Shirou's invited you to lunch at Ahnenerbe."

Being an employee, she pronounced it perfectly. The effect was electrifying.

"He has?!" Taiga and Illya cried in unison. The two shot to attention.

Bazett nodded.

"He has. Also, I think he wants Saber and Sakura as well. Are they here?"

"No, they're not!" the two hollered, still shaking in wounded outrage.

"I see," said Bazett. "Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Go find them yourself!" screamed the two at last, before storming off together to the shed.

Bazett blinked, then shook her head.

"At least I've notified them. Now, Lancer," - and here her expression melted into an excited smile - "shall we go off and find the other three?"

She gave her victim a coy shake. The mass of mangled blue she was holding by the foot made an unintelligible squeaky noise.

"You're the best!" squealed Bazett, before dragging him down the road and into the distance.

Back on the Emiya grounds, Taiga and Illya wheeled Shirou's bike out onto the lawn.

"You know," panted Taiga in ill-concealed fury, "as a teacher, I should be a shining bastion of society. But never mind that."

"You know," remarked Illya in equal exasperation, "as a person, I still think you're a big fat meanie. But never mind that."

Taiga slammed the bike onto the pavement, then mounted it with gusto. Illya clambered onto the back and held on tight.

"Indeed, none of that matters now!" Taiga screamed. "For today, we steal together for justice! Come, Illya! To Ahnenenenerbe!"

"Yeah!" agreed Illya in excitement. "I don't know where it is, but I bet that we can get there really really fast!"

"I have no idea either, but if we move in a straight line for long enough, we're bound to get there!"

"To Achnenehrbe!" reiterated Illya.

Taiga began to pedal with great effort. The two moved along at a reasonable speed, for unlike Saber, neither of them had the advantage of Riding Rank B.

* * *

><p>"<em>Shirou, I am en route to your location. Despair not."<em>

Shirou, who had just finished getting the stains out of the curtains, perked up at the voice in his head.

"Oh, that's great, Saber," he smiled. "Did you, um, tell Taiga and Illya to come too?"

Shirou's contingency plan for not dying: conclude the first lunch at speed without Rin or Sakura. Then he could clear everyone out in time for the second lunch with the remaining two, where he'd only have to deal with murderous sisterly rivalry. Easy. Bazett couldn't outspeed telepathy. All he needed was timing, and he had that down pat.

Shirou felt very confident in his plan. At Saber's next message, this confidence immediately dove off a cliff, screaming farewells to its friends and family.

"_...Not quite, Shirou."_

There was a note of sheepish apology in Saber's voice.

"What?" Shirou gulped. "What do you mean?"

"_I am afraid there were some… unforeseen difficulties. Not that I appropriated Taiga's Vespa or left Illya hanging in a cloud of dust. I assure you that nothing of the sort took place."_

Shirou now knew exactly what had taken place.

"But _why?!_" he cried, throwing his hands up in despair.

Saber paused, then responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"_I am _very_ hungry, Shirou."_

Shirou opened his mouth, then realised that there was no reasonable answer to this. Dejected, he went back to scrubbing the floor.

Maybe Saber would defend him from the onslaught. Then again, he had this unnerving mental image of her being too stuffed to care.

* * *

><p><em>Everything converges on Ahnenerbe. Of course, we all know that it's just the Author's way of moving everything to the same place because he's lazy, but who cares? Anyway, I have quite a treat for you. Here's a note from the author. I shall read all punctuation marks aloud, and scream all capitals in an overly dramatic fashion. Ahem. <em>

'_At the moment the Fanfiction Festival had 333 unique visitors... (excellent number)_

_130 were from the USA, 26 from the Phillipines, 17 from New Zealand, 24 from the UK, 11 each from Malaysia and Mexico, 10 from Singapore (REPRESENT), 9 from Canada, 8 each from Brazil and China, 7 each from Argentina and Indonesia, 6 each from Australia and Germany, 4 each from Sweden, Venezuela, France, the Netherlands, and Spain, 2 each from Saudi Arabia, Ukraine, Norway, Japan (SENPAI NOTICED ME), Portugal, Finland, India, Iceland, Turkey, and Denmark. 1 each from Chile, Hong Kong, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Romania, Ireland, Italy, the Republic of Korea, Peru, Greece, South Africa, Puerto Rico, and Belgium._

_Quite an international bunch. This is great! Thank you all for your support, and I hope you're enjoying the Festival_

_-Exclamation mark. What an idiot. There, note over. All shall be revealed as the Festival continues, onward for great justice. _

_Bleh._


	4. How Not to Purchase Clothes

_It is I, the Narrator! Fear me! Revere me! Do both of the above! _

_...Alright, here's your chapter. _

* * *

><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: FANFICTION FESTIVAL!<strong>

**Chapter Four: How Not to Purchase Clothes**

* * *

><p>If there was anything Tohsaka Rin hated more than waking up in the morning, it was spending money.<p>

That morning, Sakura's message had dragged her out of bed fifteen minutes early. In her groggy state, she had forgotten how to work the answering machine, so she had punted it off the cupboard and left the mess for Archer to clean up. Now, at two in the afternoon, she found herself glaring into the display of a very big, very luxurious clothing store. Her sister stood beside her and radiated her usual smile of passive-aggressive expectancy.

Tohsaka Rin was not a happy camper.

"Of course, you _had_ to choose the most expensive place in town. Nothing less from my beloved sister."

The irritation in her voice was plain. Model-student Tohsaka this was not.

Sakura beamed beatifically.

"But of course, Sister dearest. How often do we get the chance to shop together? I must thank you for letting me choose the store."

Rin rubbed her temples.

"As I recall," she hissed through gritted teeth, "I asked you to choose a shop which _wasn't too expensive_."

She turned her glare on Sakura. The other girl's smile barely flickered.

"Oh, but it's such a wonderful opportunity, don't you think?"

Rin's only response was an extended groan. Allowing for the acoustic properties of her palm as applied to her face, a rough transliteration would be '_mmmmmmmmgryouggghIghgrah.'_

Sakura's only response to this verbal chimera was a pleasant nod of accommodation.

"Yes, my thoughts exactly. Shall we go, Sister dearest?"

It was almost as if she was relishing it - which, if Rin knew anything about her estranged-sister-cum-distant-schoolmate-cum-romantic-rival-cum-occasional-shopping-partner, she totally was. Of all the hyphenated things in her life, Sakura had the dubious honor of having the most hyphens. At times, this made Rin feel vaguely guilty, like she wanted to get to know her sister more.

This was not one of those times.

The purple-haired girl walked happily through the doors. Rin had little choice but to trudge behind.

"I swear, I'm never agreeing to buy anything with you again."

"Don't worry, Sister dearest. Once is quite enough."

Rin scowled, both at the sickening sweetness of Sakura's tone and the sly edge in her undertone. If a hypothetical ball of ants was to fly at Sakura at that very moment, she thought, they would probably all die of a hypothetical twentieth strain of diabetes. In mid-flight.

"Oh, this looks cute!"

Rin looked up, then balked. Sakura was proffering a pink flower top. The embroidered sun was beaming. The flowers were swaying beneath the sun. The bees were dancing happily around the flowers. It was the most disgustingly girly thing Rin had ever seen.

"You can't possibly expect me to wear that," she said flatly. "It's hurting my eyes."

Sakura assumed a look of perfect innocence.

"I'm so sorry, Sister dearest. Please forgive me. What _do _you usually wear?"

"Oh, for -"

Rin's hands flew up, sending her twintails flying and earning a startled glance from the saleswoman two aisles away. Then her fingers grasped both sides of her head and squeezed hard. Then she forced her arms down with an effort. It was a very dramatic gesture, ponderable at all three of its parts.

"Look," she breathed, "I want something elegant and red. Get me something elegant. Also red."

"I think it's wonderful how sophisticated you are," nodded Sakura happily. "Just like Father."

With that devastating snipe, Sakura walked down the aisle, took a left, and disappeared. Trembling, Rin wondered if this was how Emiya felt when faced with one of her own flippant moods. It only took her several seconds to dismiss the notion. No way Emiya would feel anything on this level, she thought. She wasn't even that bad.

Empathy was not something that came easily to the twin-tailed girl.

"What about this one?"

And there was Sakura again, holding a very large tomato suit. It was velvety. It was tomato-y. It had a little limpid stalk-cap hanging off the right glove and two large googly eyes in its center.

"It's designer," she chirped. "I can't think of anything more chic than designer. Is this the right shade of red?"

Rin opened her mouth, then closed it. Throwing herself on the nearest cushioned stool, she pushed her head into her hands and began to speak very, very slowly.

"What part. Of elegant. Do you not. Understand?"

All things considered, her control was quite admirable. She was only heaving like a medium-sized bull as opposed to a large one.

Sakura looked at the suit. The googly eyes googled back.

"I think you'd kill at the summer festival," was her cheerful response.

Sakura then began walking backwards, because Rin shot her a look so black that the average recipient would have been marked as racially insensitive for all time. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Sakura had experienced much blacker stuff, and was thus disturbingly unaffected. Her smile remained intact.

"Still, I guess I could find something else if that doesn't suit your fancy. I can't imagine why."

The fact that Rin's fingers were visibly itching to throttle her didn't hurt, either.

Five minutes passed, which Rin mostly occupied with knuckle-cracking, tooth-grinding, twintail-whipping, sweater-twisting, and all the things that she usually did when she was ready to commit homicide. She hadn't got any results from Archer, so she didn't even know where Shirou was - and that was one less chance to one-up her sister. The opportunities for revenge seemed maddeningly limited.

"Found it!"

Rin didn't even want to look. Still, a mounting wave of impatience forced her eyes from Sakura's shoes.

It was a smaller version of the tomato suit.

"Slimming, no?"

Rin jumped up, ready to kenpo Sakura to a pulp. She stepped forwards, eyes smoldering. In a single step, she initiated the Tohsaka-Style Silent Grab of Sister-Pulping, a technique devised by her pugilist ancestors for any situation in which one might have to pulp a sister with discrete haste. The move involved a throat-grab, choke-slam, copious slapping, and finally four elbow drops, laced throughout with judicious applications of catty language.

Unperturbed, Sakura flipped the tomato suit inside-out and caught Rin's head in mid-step. Then she unfurled a red scarf, wrestled her struggling sister to the nearest mirror, tied her arms to her sides, somehow produced the first tomato suit, and finally tugged it over the rest of Rin for good measure. Upside-down.

"My, Sister dearest!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Your new outfit looks even better than I thought it would! And it's all red, too!"

Pulling out her phone, she began snapping away. Rin's violent squirming turned into dangerous stretching noises, punctuated with muffled squeaks of rage. That, as it turned out, was the catty language.

"Just wait till everyone on Myspace sees this!"

With a momentous rip, Rin's arm burst from within its tomato-y prison. That was how she got in the first elbow drop. The other three went unattempted due to technical difficulties.

For about two minutes, the only audible sound was the ragged breathing of the collapsed, spread-eagled sisters. About one minute in, Rin's other arm popped out of the left leg-hole, which was why she was able to scuttle off Sakura like an incredibly awkward crab. The two pairs of googly eyes googled.

The saleswomen were staying as far away as possible from the two psychopaths.

Sakura gave a cough-laugh and rolled to her knees. She'd already uploaded the photos.

"So feisty," she wheezed, doubling over in a fit of giggles.

Rin made a perfectly indescribable noise. Her right arm was still parallel to the ground and her head was still in a severe case of tomato-suit, which probably explained why the sound was indescribable. Still hunched over, Sakura turned wincingly around.

"Excuse me?" she called.

The saleswomen gave each other terrified glances, then shoved the middle one to the front.

"Y-yes? How m-may I help you, M-miss?" she trembled.

Sakura straightened up, then flashed her widest smile yet.

"What's your policy on customer-damaged goods?"

Rin made a perfectly indescribable noise. The saleswoman gulped and twiddled her fingers.

"F-full purchase, Miss."

Rin went completely stiff, then fell over.

"Well," said Sakura triumphantly, "I guess we have no choice."

Seizing Rin by the arm, she dragged her paralyzed victim to the counter. Rider couldn't have done a better job.

"Oh, and my sister would like this pink flower top, too. Isn't that right, Sister dearest?"

Rin made a perfectly indescribable noise. Sakura nodded happily.

"Such good taste!"

And as she rummaged for her sister's wallet, she put the little stalk-cap on Rin's red-swathed head to crown things off.

* * *

><p>Rider was still huffing when she received her Master's message.<p>

"_I've neutralised my sister, Rider. Have you found Senpai?"_

Rider looked at Archer, who was frozen in about his fortieth smug pose that day. His white eyebrow was arched quite perfectly now, and he had in place a deliberately ridiculous grin.

"_No, Sakura," _she snapped, with more than a hint of flustered embarrassment. "_I have not found Emiya Shirou."_

As she walked along the sidewalk with her sister in tow, Sakura gave a disappointed frown. The crowd of onlookers shifted uncomfortably. Rin was still in costume. Rin was still insensate.

"_That's too bad, Rider. Keep looking."_

Rider twitched.

"_Trust me, Sakura. I am doing my best." _

And on the rooftop across the street from Ahnenerbe, Rider prepared to put her glasses back on. She also positioned her foot for a swift kick to the vulnerables.

It was too late for Archer to change the ridiculous grin, but a thin film of sweat did break out on his forehead.

Sakura sighed as she cut off contact with her Servant. Why was her life so hard?

"Oh, Sakura. Just the person I wanted to see."

Sakura turned. It was Bazett, Lancer in tow. Dragging their respective bodies, the two females came abreast of each other. The crowd decided it was probably time to disperse.

"Hello, Bazett," smiled Sakura.

"Hello, Sakura," replied Bazett. "Shirou's invited you to lunch at Ahnenerbe."

Sakura's eyes burst into orbs of gleaming light.

"Senpai has?" she breathed. "Oh, how _wonderful!_"

Bazett nodded.

"That's right. Also, do you know where Tohsaka Rin is? Because she's invited too."

"Rin?" gasped Sakura in mock puzzlement. "Why, Rin's right here."

She indicated the double-tomato-trussed body behind her. Driven by a sudden wave of mutual sympathy, Rin and Lancer's quivering fingers touched.

Bazett blinked.

"I see," she said. "Well, I think Shirou would appreciate it if you got her to Ahnenerbe."

Sakura smiled.

"But of course I will. After all, she's _such_ a good friend of mine."

Two things happened at this very moment. Firstly, a flash of yellow tore down the street, sailed over two trucks and five automobiles, and whipped past the sidewalk. Secondly, Rin disappeared, leaving nothing but the green stalk-cap.

Sakura's smile cracked.

"What?"

Bazett craned her neck.

"I do believe that was Saber on a yellow Vespa," she stated. "Also, she appears to be heading towards Ahnenerbe. Splendid. That's all five invitations done."

"What?"

Sakura was not taking this very well. Her face was spasming.

"Well," said Bazett, "I do hope you enjoy your lunch. You see, Lancer and I are both waiters at Ahnenerbe, and our bosses have all scrambled. Obviously, looking for them comes first."

"What?"

The Irishwoman in the French maid dress gave a little excited twirl.

"Come on, Lancer! Let's go!"

Lancer could only skid in a circle, because the Vespa had run him over. Giggling, Bazett pranced away.

Sakura's head fell. She stood stock-still, emanating a dark aura of impending doom.

"_Rider?" _she asked quietly.

From the rooftop, Rider turned around. Freed at last, it was all Archer could do not to flop around in extreme agony.

"_Yes, Sakura?"_

The schoolgirl's voice hardly changed.

"_Get over here, Rider._ _We're going on a race."_

* * *

><p><em>And with that dramatic conclusion...<em>

_Normally, I'd have more to say, but it appears I have more notes from the Illustrious Author to read. Celebrate, good times, come on. This job is getting really tiring. _

"_In response to King of Beasts, I must sadly say that I have little experience with Fate/Apocrypha – thus, the chances of any Apocrypha Servants appearing in this fic are limited at best. At the moment, the character cast will be drawn from Fate/Stay Night and Hollow Ataraxia, as these are the installments I'm most familiar with. Thank you for your review, though, and I'm glad that you're enjoying this fic. Same goes for all my other lovely reviewers and followers. You guys are aweso-"_

_And cut. I believe what he was trying to say is 'I am a filthy casual.' Anyway._

_Will Sakura get to Ahnenerbe before everyone else? What is this race she is planning? Does the Author even know where he's going? All will be revealed as the Festival continues! Onward for great justice!_


	5. How Not to Go On a Race

_No, I'm not dead. I, the Narrator, cannot die, for I am immortal! Muhahahaha!_

_It's been a very relaxing break. I'm in quite a good mood. Receive this chapter as a token of my grace._

* * *

><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: FANFICTION FESTIVAL!<strong>

**Chapter Five: How Not to Go On a Race**

* * *

><p>One day, someone looked at someone else and coined a maxim: that one's capacity for love and forgiveness tends to decrease the longer one stays in any vehicle of any sort. It was noted in response that this maxim was generally true. After a brief period of circulation, some other person proposed a direct corollary: that this effect increases exponentially in relation to velocity. The will of Alaya fished this floating suggestion from the seething mass of humanity's consciousness, thought it very odd, and finally placed it in the 'moot' cabinet.<p>

But the equation had never taken a female king, a tomato-suit-trussed twin-tailed girl, and a stolen yellow Vespa as variables. The results were proving, for lack of a better word -

Interesting.

"Saber! G-get me off this thing!"

Despite the fact that she was currently hanging on to Saber's waist for dear life, Rin somehow found the time to look reasonably petulant. The first tomato suit had flown off her face about three seconds in. The second was still on her body, but the roaring wind of their passing seemed to be doing wonders for her personality.

Saber looked at her accidental pillion passenger.

"Believe me, Rin, there is nothing I would like better," she said earnestly. "I desire food, not war."

Rin yelped. Still looking at Rin, Saber skidded around the turn, veered past the lamppost, and righted the Vespa.

"Nonetheless," she continued, "I cannot slow down. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that dismounting now might prove hazardous to your health."

"Wha- bwuh-"

Rin's billowing cheeks were not doing wonders for her speech.

"W-why can't you slow down?" she screamed.

"Firstly," said Saber, without a hint of love or forgiveness, "Shirou has invited me to Ahhnenerbe for lunch."

"Ehnenerbe?" Rin screamed again.

Saber nodded.

"Ahneenerbe."

She took a moment to dodge the kerb. The pedestrians dove for cover. A stray chunk of asphalt ripped Rin's tomato-suit clean off, leaving her both free and very irate.

"But why the hell are you going so _fast_?" she flailed in rage, before realising that taking her hands off Saber was a very bad idea.

Saber felt the pressure on her midsection release, then tighten abruptly. For the sake of her dignity, she decided to ignore it.

"Secondly," Saber continued, "I advise you look behind us."

Gingerly, Rin looked behind them.

"Oh."

In their wake streaked a bolt of gleaming light. A majestic winged stallion, shaking the very earth with his passing, causing the very air to tremble with his mighty wings. Swooping above traffic and pedestrians alike, the Pegasus soared up into the sky, almost too high to see - then it settled into a steady searching path, poised above them like an unusually pale horse-eagle.

"Rider!" cried Rin in vexation. Then, with vitriol: "Sakura!"

Saber's hands tightened on the handlebars.

"Brace yourself, Rin," she warned.

The twin-tailed girl, not about to make the same mistake twice, held on even tighter. In the time it took for Rin's heart to beat twice, the silver armor of the King of Knights materialised and latched onto the Vespa, sheathing it in gleaming silver. There was a rush of wind and an explosion of blinding light as Saber's prana surged into the machine, revitalising every component and pushing it past its physical limits.

If the Pegasus hung overhead like a pale comet, the augmented Vespa shot forth like a swirling hurricane.

* * *

><p>"Look, Mommy, it's a magical pony flying through the sky! And it has two ladies on it!"<p>

"Kyosuke, I didn't bring you to this expensive Japanese restaurant just so you could make up stories. Now eat your salmon roe."

* * *

><p>Despite the fact that they were currently travelling at a speed of 250 kilometers an hour, the two ladies on the back of the Pegasus stayed surprisingly still.<p>

"There, Sakura." Rider calmly tugged at Bellerophon, altering their trajectory by an eighth of a degree with the enchanted reins. This proved necessary, as otherwise they would have crashed ignominiously into the overhead pass they were currently shooting over.

Eyes obscured, Sakura muttered terrible things under her breath. Her murderous aura was so thick, it was keeping her hair down. What it was not keeping down was Rider's hair, which was currently streaming over Sakura's face in a billowing lavender wave of ridiculous volume. The shampoo companies would have done unspeakable things for a photo.

It was a good thing Sakura wasn't paying attention, because she probably wouldn't have seen anything anyway.

The Pegasus neighed and swooped low. Stoically oblivious as to the state of her hair, Rider altered their trajectory by a twenty-seventh-and-a-half of a degree. This proved necessary, as otherwise they would have overturned two passing lorries and a semi with the speed of their flight. As it was, the shockwave merely scattered a few pedestrians and a sheaf of real estate flyers, causing their distributor to kick his heels in the air and go home.

One of the spiralling sheets brushed past a sliding, blue-haired Irishman and slit his throat, killing him instantly. The pink-haired Irishwoman who had his leg promptly stopped to fuss violently.

Rider, already out of eyeshot and earshot, peered through her glasses at the defiant silver-yellow dot beneath them. Despite its considerable enhancement, Saber's machine was already at its limit. With her inhuman senses, she could hear the Vespa's engine shuddering, smell the acrid burn of its slowly melting tyres. With a bit of encouragement, her mount would overtake them with ease.

Rider felt quite happy at that. Despite her stony appearance, she really liked racing.

"We shall pass them soon, Sakura. Perhaps, as you say, those two will lead us to Emiya Shirou."

Rider's face remained inscrutable, betraying no hint of her recent embarrassments in this regard.

Sakura, hair-swathed, said nothing. Which was all very well, because she would probably have gotten nothing in return save a mouthful of hair. As if to prove this narratorial observation, Rider gave the Rider-equivalent of a shrug. Meaning she had no reaction.

It was a pity that the Servant's sight wasn't as ludicrously good as the rest of her senses, because in that moment she missed a tiny bit of movement on the yellow dot. The red speck clambered up from behind the blue-white speck, waved its specky arms, yelled something -

_('...and this, you shrinking sham of a sister, is for my money!'_ heard Rider.)

- and threw. Launched by a Strengthened arm, six sparkling dots of emerald light arced up into the air, before bursting into blazing bolts of green flame. Barbeque would be an understatement. This was at least ten years of barbeque. But Rider remained remarkably unfazed in the face of impending fiery death.

"Too slow," she murmured. And with an austere tug from her, the Phantasmal Beast began to fly even faster. In a dazzling display of aerial acrobatics, it swooped past each and every fireball, narrowly grazing a few for the hell of it.

('_...oh, for the love of - come on! Why does this always happen? Jewels are expensive!'_)

Rider didn't smile, but from the position of her arms she almost seemed smug. She decided to do more tricks, just to rub it in.

It was at the apex of the the third corkscrew-pirouette-with-double-tuck that Sakura plummeted straight from the saddle, still muttering dark things.

Rider blinked. She hadn't counted on her Master's thighs being less grippy than her own.

('_...hah, serves you right you waitaminute Rider do something!') _

The faraway voice seemed almost panicky. Shaking her head, Rider raised one arm from the bridle. Who did they think she was? Her nail-dagger shimmered into existence with a cold scrape of metal links. A deft flick of her wrist sent it hurtling towards Sakura. The chain coiled around Sakura's legs like an oddly obedient snake, keeping her from plummeting to a squishy end. Fortunately, it also got her skirt, keeping her from flashing the entirety of New Town.

"It is good that you are safe, Sakura. Now we advance."

Sakura muttered upside-down dark things.

Swelling with hidden confidence, Rider edged her Pegasus into a downwards spiral. The great wings scythed clean through the air, creating a cyclone of aerodynamic force. The Pegasus neighed once, a rumble of seismic power -

Then it crashed into a large billboard of Neco-Arc.

* * *

><p>Now that the time for sisterly worry was past, Rin felt completely free to crow in triumph.<p>

"Ahaha! I guess that does serve you right! Buy me a flower top, will you? Huh? Huh?"

Ignoring the taunts emanating from the back of the Vespa, Saber observed the smoking horsehead from the left mirror. The Pegasus was currently halfway through the right eye of Neco-Arc. Its wings were flapping, but to no avail. Saber thought the Pegasus looked like a large, horsy chicken.

Neither of them had any idea why there was a billboard of a deformed cat-thing in the middle of town, but they were quite grateful for it all the same.

"We did it, Saber!" cried Rin, patting the King of Knights on the back. "You really are the best Servant!"

Saber smiled, and touched Rin's hand in appreciation.

"I thank you for your praise, Rin."

But before she could sling the twin-tailed girl off the Vespa without so much as a 'by your leave', they smashed very hard into a lamppost.

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?" asked Illya, as Taiga pedalled laboriously up the hill.<p>

"No, we aren't," muttered Taiga.

"Are we there yet?" asked Illya, as Taiga pushed Shirou's bike laboriously up the hill.

"No, we aren't," groaned Taiga.

"Are we there yet?" asked Illya, as Taiga trudged laboriously past the smoking billboard of Neco-Arc with the winged horse through the middle.

Taiga mustered every bit of her schoolteacher training.

"No, we aren't," she hiss-squeaked, sounding very much like a kettle full of nitroglycerine. "Now stop asking."

"You big fat meanie," pouted Illya. Then her face brightened.

"Hey, isn't that your Vespa?"

"NO, WE AREN'T - what?"

It was all Taiga could do not to throw the bike on reflex. For it was her Vespa - scrunched around an equally scrunched lamppost, and covered in some weird silver metal that seemed to be fading by the second, and holding two very dazed, very familiar passengers... but her Vespa all the same.

Taiga dropped the bike. Illya hit the road with a muffled squeaky noise. Twitching, the teacher shoved through the crowd of onlookers and nudged Saber with her foot. Saber looked up, then blanched.

Taiga began to speak very slowly and deliberately.

"You, little miss, are going to get this repaired. Then you are going to pay me back for the damages. Then you are going to give me your dinner for the next two weeks. Understood?"

There was a terrible, life-devouring void around her. Like a true predator, the Tiger glared balefully at her cornered prey.

Saber nodded nervously.

"O-of course, Tige- ah, Taiga. Whatever you say."

For ten horrible seconds, it seemed like the Tiger hadn't heard. Then her face lit up, and her hands came together with a pat.

"Well," she said cheerily, "now that that's all settled, we're off! See you at Aneeherrbe!"

Picking up the bike and Illya both, Taiga toddled off. She seemed completely rejuvenated. Saber looked after her sadly, thinking of the fourteen dinners lost to the maw of the beast.

Two things happened at that very moment: a) Rin stirred back into consciousness b) the policeman who had been standing awkwardly to one side all this time decided to come forward.

"Um… sorry about this, Miss and Miss, but I'll need both your names. You're kinda under arrest."

The crowd tittered. Rin gaped. But Saber looked up, and the flash of her eyes was like the summer lightning.

"There is no crime," she said plainly. "I was not riding at five times the legal speed limit, nor did I have an illegal pillion passenger on a vehicle with no pillion seat. Also, the vehicle was not stolen."

The policeman blinked, then frowned.

"Now wait a minute -"

"Do you impugn the judgement of the King?" asked Saber coldly.

The policeman blinked again, then peered closely at Saber.

"I'm so sorry, s-sir," he stammered. "I had no idea you were a man. Even though you're in a dress. Um. Forgive m-"

He clammed up at another thunderous glance.

"Now, you shall allow me to take my friend and leave. You have caused me enough trouble as it is."

"Y-yes, my liege."

The policeman knelt, head spinning. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he was in the presence of a great and noble righteousness.

Saber took Rin by the hand and led her away. The crowd parted instinctively. Rin grinned, almost disbelievingly.

"Wow, you almost sounded like Goldy there. That's a neat trick."

Saber nodded, giving a mildly bashful smile.

"I learnt how to rule with authority in the fair court of Camelot. Were this any other day, my language would be of a far gentler kind - but it seems my stomach refuses to leave me alone."

_When _does_ your stomach leave you alone?_ thought Rin, before thinking better of it.

"So why didn't you do it with Taiga?" she asked instead.

Saber shuddered.

"When her wrath is kindled, Taiga acknowledges no power save herself. To put it mildly, the results would have been disastrous."

Rin had to admit that this made a lot of sense. Saber shook herself, smiled, and looked into the blue sky. Lulled into an easy peace, the two strolled steadily towards Ahnenerbe.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Miss, but I must ask you to unhand your prisoner, dismount your flying horse and get down from the deformed cat-thing. I repeat: unhand your prisoner, dismount your flying horse and get down from the deformed cat-thing."<p>

The only response from on high was obstinate silence. The policeman stared over his megaphone and shook his head. This was going to be a long day. He could just feel it.

What was it with people and crashing into things, anyway?

* * *

><p><em>Before you ask, I'm not apologizing for making you wait for my lovely Narratorial voice. Too bad. As it turns out, neither is the Author! Let's see, what did he say? Ah, yes. Told them updates would be spasmodic, really busy with exams, blahdeblahdeblah. We all know he's just being lazy. Send your complaints to him, not to me. I'm just glad I got to pick up all that salary for doing nothing.<em>

_Anyway. Obligatory rhetorical question time. The race has come to an eventful halt, but everyone's still going in the same direction! Where are the Necos? What will happen with Rider? Is Archer alright? Does it matter? Will the next chapter come first, or the next Ice Age? All will be revealed as the Festival continues! Onward for great justice!_


	6. How Not to Intimidate Folks

_So, you're finally back! Splendid!_

_I mean, you're finally back. To hear me. Ahem. _

_Mr. Author, I'm ready for that raise. _

* * *

><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: Fanfiction Festival!<strong>

**Chapter Six: How Not to Intimidate Folks**

* * *

><p>It had taken him approximately twenty minutes of plucking, but he had finally gotten all the porcelain out of the floor. One surface down, five more to go. The walls and ceiling were still plastered with tableware.<p>

Fortunately, Emiya Shirou was not someone who gave up easily.

After some rummaging, he found that the only available stepladder was in Deformed Cat-Thing Size. This presented a number of problems. Standing on the tables wouldn't work, because he had just scrubbed the tables. The curtains were unclimbable. The chairs were too short, and stacking them on top of each other was a sure-fire recipe for breaking his head.

Shirou looked around at the plates, bowls, and ex-plates/bowls sticking out from everywhere. Just like grass, he thought, in another one of his usual metaphors. Hard, white grass that you ate off of, only now the grass was broken.

Shirou's metaphors always made more sense in his head.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, more to himself than anyone else. "How am I going to get this place clean?"

He tried not to think too much about his impending doom, or rather impending guests. Which was why he completely missed the presence at the door until it started clapping.

"Marvelous work, Emiya Shirou," came the all-too-familiar voice. "I'm sure you came top in home economics."

Shirou gave an annoyed scowl. It was like a cheese-grater, he thought, a cheese-grater rubbing in reverse at the soft, whole-wheat bread of his mind. And the cheese-grater was coated in cranberry sauce.

"I've never taken home economics, and you know that. What do you want, Archer?" he asked testily.

The white-haired Servant folded his toned arms and smirked. His black T-shirt stretched obligingly to hint at his chiseled physique. Then he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you as dense as you seem, Emiya Shirou?" he inquired caustically. "Clearly, all I want is to see you in a pink frilly apron. Why else would I be in this shambles of a cafe?"

Shirou frowned down at his pink frilly apron. It had two paw-prints and a large red heart in its center. He decided to change the subject. Fortunately, he realised something in that very moment which helped quite a bit.

"Rin sent you, didn't she?"

"Congratulations. Do you want me to start clapping again?"

The Shirouisms began flowing with unusual intensity. Archer's air of devil-may-care machismo was so thick, a blunt knife could have cut it. It was like Shirou's heart was a shrimp casserole and he had an inexplicable tendency to develop seafood allergies on contact with Archer.

Gritting his teeth, Shirou clutched his hand to his breast. There was no EpiPen for the things of the heart.

If Archer had an eyebrow over his raised eyebrow, he would have raised that one too. The conversation had been legally dead for ten seconds. For a brief moment, the Servant considered the merits of just leaving his idiotic past-self to his idiotic past-musings. Unfortunately, his brain reminded him that there were various reasons why that was an impractical solution.

It had been his duty to inform his lovely Master of the whereabouts of Emiya Shirou. He had accomplished the task with ease - but then he had been interrupted by Rider, frozen in place at spasmodic intervals for several hours, and finally become the living receptacle of a vicious kick to the unmentionables. Which, if taken in the singular, was a good way of describing how he still felt down there.

Archer was very aware of his lovely Master's temper. It was why he was looking for an alibi. And what better alibi than an overly trusting moron?

Swiping the broom from Shirou's hand, Archer brought his past-self back to his past-senses with a whack on the head.

"Enough of that, numbskull."

"Ow!"

Archer hammered the point home with a few potshots.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Shirou ducked under the fifth swing and came up hard against the counter.

"Seriously! Do you solve all your problems by trying to kill me?"

"It has come to my attention that humanity benefits greatly from the elimination of idiots," was Archer's droll reply. "But I'm not here to kill you, Emiya Shirou. I'm here to help you. Clean up, that is."

"Yeah, right. Pull the other one."

Unimpressed, Shirou snatched back his broom and folded his arms in an unconscious mirror of his older self. Even his apron glowered, and it was already pink.

Archer smirked.

"If I did, you might not have a leg to stand on. Use your brain, Emiya Shirou. I have a thousand implements infinitely more suited for killing you than a broom - though, admittedly, none as humiliating. If I really wanted to do the world some good, surely I'd be brandishing one of those by now. Or is your mental image of me as slow as you are yourself?"

Shirou opened one eye, considering this.

"You're doing this out of nothing but the goodness of your heart?" he asked suspiciously. It seemed the blatant insults had gone right over his head.

"Of course not," shot back Archer, this time genuinely irritated. "All I want to do is help out my best buddy Shirou, and put some lovely flowers by the door, and perhaps bake some glazed doughnuts for the orphans while I'm at it. What do you think?"

Shirou frowned.

"What orphans?"

_Oh overly trusting moron, _thought Archer in a rare moment of poetry, _thy name really is Emiya Shirou. _

"Look, numbskull," he said at last, "do you want the tableware out of your ceiling, or can I watch you break your back trying to pry it out with tweezers?"

In the end, there was only one answer to this.

"I'll take my chances with the tweezers," said Shirou, turning towards the bathroom.

"Like hell you will," growled Archer, grabbing Shirou by his apron strings and kicking him out the door. Then he put the apron on.

It seemed EMIYA was set on giving himself a helping hand.

* * *

><p>In general, brightly-colored hair would not be enough to get you noticed on the streets of Fuyuki City. Redheads were commonplace. Blondes were compensating for something with bubbliness. Purpleheads and blueheads were subdued and in no way psychologically disturbed - or so the local Hairoscope (an oft-ignored feature consigned to the twenty-fifth page of the Fuyuki Herald) would have it. Black meant you were just plain boring, but no worries! With the happy effect of dominant alleles and the easy failsafe of dyes, any citizen could have their hair in any exciting color they so chose!<p>

It was pointed ears that were less commonplace, and it was a certain woman's very sharp lobes which were drawing all the stares.

"All of you! Will you please cut it out already?"

Caster, also known as Medea, also known as That Weird Woman At The Temple, also known as You Witch, tugged her luscious sky-blue hair around her decidedly non-luscious fingernails and cast a petulant death-glare at the crowd behind her.

Some of the children were trying to make her ears bounce. Their success was not inconsiderable.

Caster turned around and threw her arms wide. In her white blouse, purple leggings and black thigh-high boots, she had seemed more a young devoted housewife than anything else. But now her eyes blazed with eldritch secrets from the Age of Gods. An inexplicably dark aura gathered about her face, shrouding it in cavernous gloom.

Also, a familiar started waving its skeletal arms from behind her shoulders, just to complete the effect.

"Begone, filthy peasants!" thundered Caster in her womanly tones. "Do not make me feast on your paltry essences!"

The crowd broke out into appreciative applause.

"Hey, neat trick," said a salaryman. "You must be one of those foreign street performers."

"It's all smoke and mirrors," doddered an old man, "smoke and mirrors."

"Did you do the magical pony too, Mrs. Magician?" asked another boy, eyes shining.

"Kyosuke!" came an admonishing voice from inside the crowd.

One of the girls reached out, grabbed the familiar's bony arm, and happily started using it to flick Caster's right earlobe.

Caster twitched, hissed, gave a tantrumy stamp of her feet, and finally disappeared in a sudden pulse of purple. The familiar looked around wildly, then fell to pieces.

The crowd started cheering.

* * *

><p>Caster reappeared several lampposts away, body intact but pride in tatters.<p>

"Curse this age and its charlatanry!" she trembled. "Have I no dignity as a Mage?"

She then gasped, wobbled and held her arms out, because balancing on a lamppost was harder than it looked. But in that moment, she caught sight of a very familiar pair on the sidewalk.

"Saber!" squealed Caster, clasping her hands together in delight. Then:

"That twin-tailed jewel hussy! What is she doing with _my Saber_?"

Sigils of purple light swirled around her outraged fingers. Raising her hand, Caster prepared the Word that would obliterate her rival from the face of the Earth -

"And who gave you permission to lay your pathetic gaze upon _my wife_, mongrel? Begone!"

Caster gaped at the imperious voice. Then, without even stopping to think, she dove straight off the lamppost.

In her panic, she completely forgot that she could teleport.

* * *

><p><em>The Author tells me that he had various exams preventing him from writing this sooner, and a ten-day holiday in Hong Kong that will stop him from posting anything in, well, ten days, from the 10th to the 20th. What a slacker.<em>

_Anyway, let's have something new to tide me over, because I get really bored! From what I hear, the scenes in next chapter haven't been finalised yet - there can either be a scene with Lancer, Bazett, and the Necos, or we can have a shakeup and introduce Kirei and Caren! Vote in the reviews, and if there are no votes, I will tell the Author to do whatever he wants! _

_What will happen with Archer and Shirou's cleaning fun-time? Will Rin and Saber notice the scuffle above them? Are Rider and Sakura still stuck in that billboard? Shall that one King wife the other King at last? Undefined Schrodinger's Poll Result Question? All shall be revealed as the Festival continues! Onwards for great justice!_


	7. How Not to Impel Others

…

_I told him to do a poll, but he wouldn't listen. _

_Filthy casual._

* * *

><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: Fanfiction Festival!<strong>

**Chapter Seven: How Not to Impel Others**

* * *

><p>Somewhere on the sidewalk, there was a muffled thump and a womanly squawk.<p>

Rin glanced back and let go of Saber's hand.

"What was that?"

The squishy, blue-haired meteor had hit the pavement head-first. Her legs hung wiltingly in the air. Only her frozen arms were preserving her dignity.

"You Witch!" cried Rin, rummaging for her jewels.

At the hated name, Caster shook herself out of her stupor. She looked around at the upside-down world. Then she looked up at her precariously held dignity. Then she flopped to her feet and glanced around in flustered fury.

"D-d-did you see?" spluttered Caster.

Naturally, everyone else had backed off a long time ago.

"Oh, please," smirked Rin. "Who'd want to see your old knickers anyway, Grandma?"

Caster made a perfectly indescribable noise. Rin, being very familiar with the phenomenon, took this as a sign of victory.

"Saber!" cried the girl in triumph. "Back me up!"

But Saber wasn't looking. To Rin's shock, the King of Knights' attention was wholly focused on a single spot in front of her.

It was a lion. A little plush lion, staring straight ahead with its beady gaze, every proportion overflowing with fluffy roundness. Saber thought its mane looked very poofy.

"Oh King of Beasts!" cried Saber. "Suffer your noble softness to come into my arms!"

"Saber!" yelled Rin in exasperation.

"Looks like you're out of luck, you twin-tailed jewel hussy!" snarled Caster. "Μαρδοξ!"

The air shimmered in a vast sphere. Cars floated backwards, spread apart by the invisible firmament. Pedestrians found themselves knocking on a film of thin air, which then took the liberty of wiping their memories.

"A Bounded Field, and of such complexity?" cried Rin.

"Yes! Now none shall disturb our battle!" cried Caster, sending a volley of purple-light flechettes at Rin's head.

"I should probably be thanking you!" cried Rin, absorbing them with a splash of liquified amethyst. "Too bad no-one'll be around to see you get humiliated! Because that's what you'll be, You Witch! Humiliated!"

"Don't you call me a witch!" cried Caster.

Subtle dialogue, it seemed, went out the window in these kinds of fights.

"From King to King, I beseech you!" cried Saber (ostensibly proving the trend). "Come into my arms!"

She leapt forward. She went for a glomp. She splayed into the concrete.

There was a peal of delighted laughter from above. No words of tongue or pen would have sufficed to describe the laughter, for it was indescribably smug. A rough approximation would be 'AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.' But that would be very rough.

"What is the meaning of this treachery?" shook Saber, jumping to her feet. Her nose, scuffed, glowed slightly red. Then her eyes widened.

"Gilgamesh!"

"But of course!"

The man atop the lamppost, in marked contrast to Caster, looked completely comfortable with his position. His hair was so blonde, a single look would have bleached most of Africa. His skin was so white, the sunlight seemed to bounce straight off it - like his skin was so bouncy, it was also rubber. His eyes were so red, whatever metaphor you might choose to describe it would not be red enough. For you see, his beauty was quite out of this world, and also the bounds of modest description.

"You should be honored, Saber! For today, I have seen fit to reveal to the world your admiration..."

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, raised the perfect fingers of his perfect left hand to the sun, which then shone a little brighter in acknowledgement of his gesture. Illuminated within was a small white object, which looked rather nubby.

"Of me!"

Having concluded this statement, the King of Heroes then threw the nubby object at Saber. It graciously bounced off her head,

"I said no such thing!" responded Saber indignantly.

"She's right!" agreed Rin. "Maybe all that posturing finally got to your head, Goldy!"

"H-hey!" pouted Caster, shooting off a few fireworks. "I'm still here, you know?"

Gilgamesh gave another hearty laugh.

"You underestimate me, you twin-tailed mongrel! For the capacity of my glorious head is like that of my royal inventory!"

He threw his arms out.

"Limitless!"

This proclamation rang for several seconds.

"Saber!" he added with a downwards glance. "I command you to press the play button!"

The King of Knights glared up. Despite her unwillingness, she picked up the fallen nubby object. The order was just too odd to pass up.

"...What is this?" she asked, momentary confusion overcoming her pointed stoicism.

"Beats me," blinked Rin, who had come over for a closer look.

"Hah! Did I not say that the treasures of every age are mine already? Behold!"

It was a noticeably cheap, very plastic MP3 player. One side was obviously deformed. The volume wheel was broken. The headphone jack was probably broken. Curiously enough, it had speakers.

On the front were blazoned the words:

_**APLPE IDOD**_

"The purveyor of this device described in great detail its luxurious features!" beamed Gilgamesh. "Its position as a status symbol, even in this debased age! Naturally, this meant it was already mine, so I took it back! "

Saber pressed the play button, which promptly fell off and bounced to freedom.

_"From King to King, I beseech you! Come into my arms!"_

Gilgamesh folded his arms and looked smug. A few moments passed again.

"You know," said Rin at last, "I think you'll just do anything for an ego boost, Goldy."

Her voice was completely flat.

"Oh, not at all," was the confident reply. "I simply did Saber the honor of pre-recording her acceptance of our matrimonial union. It'll fill in the guests and give me more space to talk at the ceremony!"

Saber's face was a mixture of twitching disgust and disbelief.

"I... I would rather fast for the rest of my life than become your bride, King of Heroes," she ground out.

This was a considerable statement.

Gilgamesh gave an indulgent grin.

"Ah, Saber, such a tease. I find your playful dalliances charming."

Caster waved her hands, stamped her feet again, made a few tantrumy noises, then vanished in a huff. Words to the effect of 'I'll be back!' were said.

No-one paid any attention. Fortunately, she forgot to take her Bounded Field with her, which was very good for privacy.

Saber placed her hands to her side, then whipped them out. It was almost as if she were drawing an invisible sword - which of course, she was. Her armor flashed over her clothes, prana surging through the air like starlight.

"I cannot marry you, King of Heroes," she said, placing both hands on the hilt of Excalibur. "If you continue to persist in your advances, then I shall have no choice but to seal my refusal with my blade!"

Gilgamesh pondered this. Then a slow smile spread across his alabaster face.

"And when has your opinion ever stopped me, my lovely King of Knights? It appears another demonstration of my majesty is in order."

Rin's eyes widened.

"Saber! He's at it again! Take cov-"

"Gate. Of. Babylon!"

The sky lit up with shimmering gold. Like thunderbolts from some infinite aureate pool streaked the treasures of the King, and the very world seemed to shake with their arrival.

* * *

><p>Fuyuki's largest and most luxurious clothing store was, indeed, very large and very luxurious. Few factors could have made it more so - unless, of course, that factor happened to be 'Deformed Cat-Thing.'<p>

The Necos looked around their aisle in awe. It was filled with boxers, more boxers then the eye could see.

"Amazing, nya," shook Neco-Arc.

"Indeed," agreed Neco-Chaos, giving a tug to a polka-dot pair. "For in the storms of life, self-worth is the only rock that stands firm through all things."

"...I don't get it, nya."

"Dignity is the mark of the man," replied Neco-Chaos, adding an enigma on top of the mystery and clarifying neither. "Do you not see the dignity-enhancing properties of these undergarments?"

Neco-Arc looked up and down.

"You nyow, Neco-Chaos, I've always thought you were a weird one, nya."

"The mark of a true sage," nodded Neco-Chaos.

Meanwhile, a decidedly pinker Neco was running in excited circles.

"Oh, my!" moaned Neco-Arc Destiny. "It may be indecent of me to even think this, but there's quite a few hunks I'd love to see these on! Oh, my!"

"Un un un!" nodded Bubbles, who was following her around brainlessly.

Neco-Arc tilted its head in alarm.

"Who, nya?"

The only response to this was a womanly squeal.

The three saleswomen were having a hard time working out just what these new customers were, but they would take weird stunted cat-things over homicidal female lunatics any day. All things considered, the middle one seemed less hesitant to approach than she might have been.

"Um... may I help you?" she asked.

"Ah, yes."

Neco-Chaos looked at the saleswoman, polka-dot boxers tugged over his legs. His gaze only reached to her left thigh, and the underwear was about the size of his entire midsection. The cotton draped him like a veritable blanket of manliness - or, as things were, tomcatliness.

"Do you have these in any other sizes?" queried the gray Neco. "Preferably smaller?"

Neco-Chaos took the boxers off. Gingerly lifting the shorts from her customer's raised paws, the saleswoman flipped the elastic over to reveal...

**XXXS**

"I'm ...afraid not, sir."

Neco-Chaos pondered this, stroking at his whiskers.

"I see."

The saleswoman flushed. She was about to look down at her customer when she realised that the boxers were basically blocking her view. So she settled for giving the boxers an apologetic look instead.

"Well," ruminated Neco-Chaos in his catly way, "I shall not despair. The applications of cold water are diverse beyond measure."

So saying, he rummaged in his pockets for the appropriate change.

"How much are these, my lady?"

The saleswoman told him. This time, Neco-Chaos' reaction was more like spitting a hairball.

It was on this scene of madcap activity - Destiny scurrying in circles, Bubbles following her, Neco-Chaos frantically trying to hand the boxers back, Neco-Arc looking more and more frustrated at the shenanigans surrounding it - that Bazett arrived. Behind her, Lancer raised his head and groaned.

"Oh, look, Bazett, our employers are frolicking during opening hours. Is this what you brought me to see?"

These seemed the Irishman's first words in almost forever, mostly because they were. Also, his usual fire seemed almost gone, mostly because it was. The blue-haired Servant seemed more like a bluebell than a gaslight. A very bruised, very battered bluebell.

Bazett smiled down, completely oblivious as to his condition.

"Oh, not at all, Lancer. This is just a little detour before our..."

She gave a coy wink.

"Date."

It seemed impossible, but even the blue drained from Lancer's face.

Leaving him by the door with a pat on the shoulder, Bazett put her working face on and walked in.

"I've taken care of Shirou's guests," she announced.

Everyone stopped. Except Bubbles, who smacked straight into the still-drooling Destiny, causing her to hit a mirror at great speed. The saleswoman took the opportunity to back away slowly.

"Oh, nya!" exclaimed Neco-Arc after a moment of silence. "Hello, Bazett... nya!"

The awkwardness in the store was palpable.

Neco-Chaos coughed, folded his paws behind his back in a semblance of wisdom and began pacing. The fact that the boxers were flapping behind him like unusually short, polka-dotted streamers seemed to deter him little.

"Bazett. It is an oft-overlooked fact of life that things are not always as they seem. What may seem irresponsible may, in time, reveal itself as necessary. What may seem frivolous may, in time, reveal itself as prudent. What may seem indecent may, in time, reveal itself as, ah..."

Lost for words, the gray Neco found himself wishing that he had a cigarette. He had already bitten his last one in half.

There was an unsticking sound from the mirror.

"Completely wholesome and in no way lewd?" proffered Destiny in her best impression of a moral guardian, before flopping onto her face.

"Exactly," grinned Neco-Chaos, his shark-like teeth showing.

"Un un un!"

Bazett, being a good employee, made no comment on any of this. She did, however, raise an eyebrow.

The Necos took this as a sign to start panicking. Their star employee was terrifying.

"We'll give you a raise, nya!" shook Neco-Arc.

"I'll instruct you personally in the ways of love!" quivered Destiny.

"You shall receive a double portion of my wisdom!" Neco-Chaos proclaimed.

"Un un un!"

Whatever Bubbles was bringing to the table, it didn't seem very material.

"...Anyather raise!" filled in Neco-Arc, to make up for it.

Bazett pondered this, eyes serious. Finally:

"I'll settle for that."

The Necos breathed collective sighs of relief.

"But with three more conditions."

The Necos froze again.

"Destiny, you can give the lesson to Lancer instead."

The pink-haired Neco peered past Bazett.

"Oh, my! Our other employee! Well, he certainly looks lovelorn, the poor dear! Yes, gladly!"

Lancer stopped trying to worm his way out onto the pavement and rearranged himself with a guilty grin.

Bazett nodded.

"Excellent. Secondly, you shall give me and Lancer the day off."

It was agreed that this was desirable.

"Thirdly, you shall get back to Ahnenerbe immediately and man. Your. Cafe."

This condition was offered with a polite smile and accepted with a mass exit of catly bodies. The saleswomen were too overwhelmed to ask the gray one for the boxers back.

Giving the long-suffering employees an austere nod, Bazett turned on her heel and walked to the door - then she skipped past the threshold and twirled around.

"Alright, Lancer! We did it! Let's g-"

But the only thing left was a trail of red.

* * *

><p>As he rode away on the raised arms of the Necos, Lancer practically wept with gratitude. He was definitely weeping tears of blood, courtesy of the severe gash on his forehead - but he was weeping metaphorically too.<p>

"Thank you, thank you! Gods bless your soul!" gasped the Irishman.

"Please, don't mention it!" crooned Destiny in mid-scurry. "Just following orders is all! Now, when shall we start our lesson in the ways of romance?"

The impending prospects mattered little. To Cú Chulainn, the very sky seemed to be shimmering with gold.

* * *

><p><em>And that's it. The Author wishes to inform you that holiday wishes are for losers and actually here's a little note from him again. <em>

'_Well, it's still Christmas Eve where I'm at, but thank you all very much for your support over these past few months! It makes me really happy to have readers, and I only hope that I've been able to entertain you with the characters we all love. Merry Christmas!'_

_The holiday cheer is killing me. Anyway._

_Will Saber and Rin survive the rain of gold? Will Lancer's streak of fortune last? Will the Author be dumb enough to ever try to run a poll on the reviews again? Is anyone ever going to get to Ahnenerbe? All will be revealed as the Festival continues! Onward for great justice! _

_There is no Christmas chapter. __Holiday specials are for view-racking losers anyway._

_Shoo. I want my pudding. Narrators need holidays too._


	8. How Not to Hold a Holiday Special

_Okay, I lied. _

* * *

><p><strong>All-Around TYPE-MOON: Fanfiction Festival!<strong>

**Chapter Seven-and-a-Half: How Not to Hold a Holiday Special**

* * *

><p>Lately, the parishioners of Fuyuki had been greatly disorientated by the appearance of a new priestess at the Kotomine family church. At first, Father Kotomine had allayed their confusion by describing her as a new Sister in Christ, come to serve the laity in love. Sister Caren, he had called her. Then, after a few Sundays, he had resurrected and doubled the confusion by openly referring to Sister Caren as 'Daughter Caren.' Whether the meaning was spiritual or (God forbid) physical had become a matter of great controversy.<p>

Of course, that was just the way both ministers liked it.

"Merry Christmas, Father Kotomine."

At the deadpan voice, Kotomine Kirei turned from the lectern. His lips spread into an amused smile.

"Sister Caren," he replied in his knowing baritone, "we happen to be in the middle of April. Whatever can you mean?"

The yellow-irised, white-haired priestess looked her father straight in the eye.

"I am paying your deficit, Father. For the past sixteen years of missed Christmas presents, I present you with this heartfelt gift."

"Oh?"

Kirei raised an eyebrow.

Caren placed both hands behind her back, raised them, and then brought them down.

"Nothing," she said.

"Nothing?" Kirei echoed in mock surprise.

"As you have said, Father Kotomine, nothing gives you pleasure. What better gift than that?"

The daughter was very aware of her father's sadistic temperament. The father was very aware of his daughter's abusive sanctity. They were strangely comfortable in their mutual knowledge.

Kirei chuckled.

"A most admirable stroke, my daughter."

"As Our Lord in Heaven said," remarked Caren piously, "do unto others."

"But" -and here Kirei's smirk grew wider- "what if there was something else that did give me true pleasure?"

Caren considered this.

"I suppose, in the interests of charity, I would be obliged to offer you that instead."

So saying, she reached into her vestments with both bandaged hands. In one, she produced a tiny Santa hat, which she put calmly on her head. In the other, she produced a slip of glossy paper.

"A voucher for Hongzhou Feast Hall: Taishan," she said. "I believe the spiced beancurd there may be of some interest to you."

Kotomine Kirei stepped off the lectern.

"The dish, my daughter Caren, is known as mapo tofu. Perhaps you too will learn to appreciate its beauty in time."

Taking her father's hand, Caren walked coolly down the aisle.

"You're paying," she reminded him. "For both of us."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

It seemed impossible, but Kotomine Kirei appeared to be smiling in genuine delight.

* * *

><p><em>This pudding is delicious and you can't have any. Merry Christmas. <em>


End file.
